Designs of Love
by Novus Ordo Seclorum
Summary: "I knew this day would come, but I never saw it coming..." When April comes with a big announcement, Donatello must make a difficult choice.


**Author's Note:** This story is set in the 2k12-verse, years in the future. April and Donnie are both in their early-to-mid twenties or somewhere thereabouts.

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Designs of Love

"Flip a coin. When it's in the air, you'll know which side you're hoping for."- Rothstein, _Boardwalk Empire._

I knew this day would come, but I never saw it coming. In so many ways I had been preparing myself for it since the night we met. Always bracing. Always steeling myself. But I miscalculated. I'd always assumed that, when the time came, I'd take it in stride. I'd always assumed that when she told me, it would be a small part of a larger conversation, like a footnote at the bottom of a page. So when she said she needed to speak with me, I didn't think much of it. It wasn't until she added _in private_ that my innards coiled up like a ball of tangled rubber-bands.

At a loss, I nodded dumbly; she smiled and took hold of my hand. At first, I thought she was leading me to my lab. After all, we'd spent countless hours in its confines, laboring over projects, mending the wounded, or burning the midnight oil. So when she turned in the direction of my bedroom, I didn't know what to think. I just went along.

We sat on my bed and, for the longest time, said nothing. She ran her hands over her jeans and every so often cleared her throat; I gnashed my toes against the floor and waited—waited for her to say it; for her to do what she had come to do.

"Donnie…"

I looked to her. She was chewing her lip lightly with her eyes trained on the floor. I swallowed hard.

"Y-yeah?"

"I… uh… Do you, um, still need a hand with the upgrades you were going to make to the Lair's security system? I'd, uh, be happy to help you with it… If you'd like, I mean…"

Confusion gripped me and it must've shown on my face because she started backtracking almost instantly:

"If you're all set, that's okay too. I just remembered that you were talking about it a week or two ago… I know that you don't like to put stuff like that off for too long and that you don't always have someone around who's able to… who can… uh…"

"Oh, yeah… That. It was no big deal. Mikey ended up giving me a hand with it. I think he was bored and looking for something to do."

"Oh." Her voice faltered. "Well, that's… that's good…"

Silence returned, more as a physical presence than a state of being; almost as though it had slung an arm around us both. She shifted uncomfortably and looked around my room, feigning interest in the books on my nightstand and the pictures of my brothers and I taped to the wall. She was nervous—reluctant. While I didn't want to rush her, I couldn't help myself. I had tried to be as patient as I could, but curiosity won out. It has always ruled me.

"What's on your mind, April? What did you want to talk about?"

She sighed. Her entire body rocked. "I… I got the job…"

"That's GREAT! I knew you would get it!"

Her shoulders slumped.

"What's the matter? Aren't you excited?"

"I was. I mean, I _am._ It's just… Well, it's not quite what I expected."

"In what way?"

"Well… I applied for an entry-level position. I figured if nothing else, it would be a foot in the door. But I guess I really wowed the panel with some of my responses—some of the things I knew from experience, from working with you—and my work from college really spoke for me. They offered me a position… as an assistant researcher."

"But that's awesome! It's what you've always wanted to do…"

"I know, I know… But... Their research facility… It's in Spokane…"

"Oh…" I tried not to sound defeated, even though it felt like all of the air had been stolen from my lungs; even though dread snaked through me.

"Yeah…"

I forced myself to smile. "Hey, it sounds like a great opportunity, like a chance for you to get out there and learn and grow and do something you love all at once. If it's what you want, there's no reason for you not to go."

She hanged her head. "But that's just the problem… "

"What?"

"I don't know what I want to do. It's this big, life-changing decision and it's so unclear… No matter what I choose to do, I'm giving something wonderful up. I have a life here. If I leave, I'm worried I'll be leaving the best parts of myself here in New York—here with all of you. But if I stay… another chance like this might not come around for a really long time, if ever." She pinched her eyes closed and with a chuckle, added: "No pressure, right? It's just the rest of my life…"

"It'll be all right, April. You'll see. I'm sure it doesn't seem that way right now, but before you know it, you'll know what you want to do. You'll know what makes the most sense…"

"But I don't. I can't." She lifted her eyes to meet mine. "You always know what to do… You see everything so clearly… so logically. If you were in my position, what would you do? What would you choose?"

"April… I can't make this decision for you." I slipped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "It's yours to make. Yours and yours alone."

"That's not an answer…"

"I'm… just being honest." I said with a shrug. "I'll never have to make the choice you're making, so it would be wrong of me to try to sway you one way or the other."

She grumbled in exasperation. "That doesn't make this any easier…"

And that's when it struck me; when everything shifted into alignment and made perfect sense. She had already made up her mind. She just didn't know how to tell me straight-out, or couldn't. That's why she was so forlorn, so out-of-sorts. That's why she had brought me to my room. She didn't want to ruin the memories we'd made in the lab—memories forged in late-night toil and galvanized by every shared laugh and confidence. That's why she barely looked at me. She didn't want to see the affect she would have on me. She didn't want to see the light in my eyes dim when my heart inevitably broke.

"It isn't supposed to be easy." I offered. I managed to sound conciliatory, even reassuring. "If it was, we'd never change. We'd never become more than what we are. We'd never get stronger."

She softened and leaned into me and nuzzled my shoulder with her cheek. "But… everything I've ever known. I'm afraid to leave it behind… That I'll forget. I… I don't want to forget."

I could feel her trembling as she drew her breaths in shaky gulps. Seeing her on the verge of tears left me feeling hollow and I knew I could not, in good conscience, compound her sorrow. So I pushed my feelings aside, detached myself from them. They could be dealt with later. What mattered most was being her champion, her pillar of strength. What mattered most was giving her reassurance and peace of mind, unencumbered by guilt or passionate pleas for her to reconsider.

"There's nothing wrong with being afraid. I'm afraid all the time. Every time we're in the middle of a mission and the guys look to me for answers… I'm terrified."

"R-really..?" She whimpered. "But you… You never show it…"

"I can't. It doesn't matter if they ask me to diffuse a bomb made from alien technology or fix something while we're under fire, I have to keep my head. If I didn't or couldn't, even for a second, and they could see how scared I am sometimes?" I shake my head at the thought. "They'd worry. They'd panic. It would keep them from doing what they need to do for us to be successful because, in the back of their minds, there would be doubt—uncertainty. And I can't have that. There's too much at stake."

She hooked her arms around my middle and peered up at me from the corners of her eyes. "I don't know if could ever be strong enough or brave enough to do that…"

"You are. I know you are. I've seen it. You've had to fight all of these years, you've had to deal with trails that would've made lesser people crumble, and you've not only endured, you've thrived. If there's one thing I am certain of, it's that nothing will keep you from doing whatever you wish to do." I smiled and tightened my hold on her. "There isn't a force in the universe powerful enough to hold you back."

She chuckled. "Liar…"

"I'm serious, April. You underestimate yourself and you have no reason to." I pulled her closer, rested my cheek atop her head, and sighed. "I know you can do this. And I know that if you don't, you'll always wonder what could have been. That's no way to live. If you go and find that you're unhappy, you can always come back. Nothing's set in stone. But to let this slip away for no good reason? You'd end up regretting it. Maybe not right away, but in time…"

"Wh…what if I told you I had a good reason to stay?" Her hand raked against the bridge of my shell; her nails caught the tiny grooves in the keratin and sent tiny tremors through me. It took all of my will not to bend to her.

"I'd say that if you only focus on what is, you'll never realize what could be." I felt my throat tighten involuntarily, betraying me. I cleared it and continued: "And if you get lonely or start feeling unsure of yourself, call me. I might not be there with you, but I'll never be too far away."

She dried her eyes with the back of her wrist and nestled into me. We fell into a comfortable silence—a knowing silence—and remained inert and entangled. The road ahead held the promise of uncertainty—of change. Though I tried to be supportive, worry niggled at me. It manifested as a tiny voice in the back of my mind, a voice that reminded me that time and distance change people and that it is far too easy to fall out-of-touch; that her time away would alter her just as it would enrich her; that I had to prepare myself for the inevitable—that she might never come back; that she might cease to exist.

After a while—long enough for my legs to stiffen—she stood to leave. I followed her out and walked her home. Neither of us spoke. Everything that came to mind sounded too much like goodbye, either too laconic or too ardent to soothe. The babbling of water echoed through the tunnels and that was enough; enough to keep us from falling apart.

When I helped her out of the sewer as I had countless times, I couldn't help thinking back on all the years and all the time we spent together. Every memory was a still-frame in my mind, gleaming and resonant. Each warmed my heart. Each filled me with hope and joy, things that seemed almost entirely theoretical before we met. I was a living mosaic of the moments and memories we'd shared. And, no matter what the future held, I was all the better for it.

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**Author's Note:** This was a very random idea that came to me last Friday. I decided just to go for it and get it down, and I wanted to keep it on the shorter side (I have a tendency of turning all of my one-shot ideas into sprawling novellas). I do hope that you enjoyed it! Feedback is always appreciated!


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